


i have seen the future

by prequels



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prequels/pseuds/prequels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There is chaos upon us, my Lady," he warned her.</p><p>Arya grinned ferociously. "Good," she said, her features growing more predatory by the second. "I've been bloodthirsty as of late."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i have seen the future

**Author's Note:**

> based on the song by the bravery. futurefic i guess

She is cold and menacing and quick all at once.

Her sister is there too, pale skin, painted lips, flaming hair, a certain beauty. But she is not like the other. The dark-haired one is lithe and fierce, something feral in her face, her eyes claws like a lion's. The older one looks cunning and clever and dangerous, but the younger one looks  vicious and animalistic and hungry as a wolf.

They curtsy to the king simultaneously.

The three are unceremoniously ushered inside -- the guards who do so are not his, but his sister's. They wear no mark of identification, but he can tell. Those few guards left who are loyal to him look upon their king with reverence. All the rest, being his sister's men, look upon their king ready to spit on his feet.

"Welcome," the king greets, climbing quickly up the marble steps, checking to see if the ladies would follow. "I'm sure you'll both want to rest before we get acquainted. Let me show you to your chambers."

Sansa held her sister back until the king was a few steps out of hearing range. "He could have the hand or a cousin or such show us to our rooms."

Arya nodded faintly. "He could have had the hand or a cousin greet us, but he did not. He greeted us. Alone, might I add." She paused, sharing a look with her sister.

They continued up the steps.

* * *

Sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed under her breasts, Arya Stark laughed loudly when the feast's final guest arrived. "Oh look," she griped to her sister beside her, "it must be the Queen."

Aegon Targaryen did not yet have a queen.

The Queen, everyone knew, was what the smallfolk called Rhaenys Targaryen, for it wasn't as if the king had any real power while his sister was around. But to say it in the Red Keep, sitting next to the king, at his own feast. It was almost -- _almost_ \-- treason.

But not quite.

The king's cheeks were pink, and nobody spoke, save for the tinkle of a laugh that floated out of Sansa's throat.

"I believe I'll take my supper in my chambers, tonight," said Rhaenys, as she was apt to do when Aegon was at the feast, and stalked out.

"Did I make the princess cry?" Arya jested, pouting while trying to contain a smile.

Aegon shook his head and called for more wine. To no one in particular, he mumbled, "This girl is going to be the death of me."

By the end of the feast, the hall had emptied out so it was only Aegon and the Stark girls. He made to depart, before he did, Sansa stopped him.

"Your Grace," she sang out, "what is the meaning of all this?" She gestured to the empty hall, the common clothes he was dressed in, his sister's guards outside the entrance.

"There is chaos upon us, my Lady," he warned her.

Arya grinned ferociously. "Good," she said, her features growing more predatory by the second. "I've been bloodthirsty as of late."

* * *

He looked out his window the next morning to find her screaming at his sister's men.

"Which of you can spar with me? Are you all bloody deaf?" she yelled, and then he was flying down the stairs and pulling her into an alley that lead to the seafront.

"You mustn't," he tells her. She stares at him blankly. "Those are Queensmen. My sister's."

"And why should I worry myself with that?" she asked, flicking her tongue on the consonants as if she had an accent, a haughty expression hiding the curiosity on her face.

"Because," he explains, "one word like what you said at the feast last night and they'll lop your head off, no matter who your brother is. They won't spar with you because she doesn't want them to."

She cocked her head, a foot below his, for a moment. "Where did you come from?"

He nodded up to the nearest window. "My chambers.

"Your chambers are above the kitchens?" she questioned. He nodded. "And where are the Queen's?"

Aegon snorted. "Why, she has the king's chambers, of course."

* * *

 

They come for him when the moon is high, while he is naked in bed, dreaming of snow and fangs. They take him into the Red Keep, and then down, down, until the stone is colder than he even thought it would be in King's Landing, and they show him the impenetrable cell he is to be kept in until the day of his execution. He is imprisoned for disloyal acts and treasonous premeditations. "But I'm the king," is all he can manage before they laugh and slam the iron bars behind him.

He had no way to tell time, but blindly guessed he had been about a fortnight imprisoned by the night his guards were entertained by Wylla, a tall, blonde, Dornish whore from the streets of King's Landing. She fucked the comely one until he was just about to spill his seed in her, and then opened his throat with her fingernails. Before the other one even caught sight of the blood spurting out of his comrade's flesh, both his ears had been hacked off. As he began to shriek girlishly, she stuck her blue up his nostrils, melding the two into one, and then, in a bout of mercy, slashed his neck as well, watching him fall to the stone ground with a triumphant smirk.

The shewolf materialized from thin air, it seemed, and the king couldn't look away. But where blonde Wylla had once stood was a Lady of Winterfell, lithe and fierce, something feral in her face. Arya wiggled her ears, feeling her natural face back on her. She unlocked his cage with the keys of the man she'd just ridden and led him out by the hand, his mouth agape, stumbling with awe.

She answered his unasked question. "I couldn't just let you rot in here, _Your Grace,_ " she told him, leading him up a tower by way of rungs, and it seemed like miles before they saw the sky. Her face was wealthy pale in the moonlight, spattered with Targaryen red blood, and despite it all he smiled. 

* * *

 

She had him blindfolded, and his heart began to race.

They'd been in Braavos for a moon's turn when she'd taken him out at dawn to the nearest canal and wrapped a cloth around his eyes.

"It's itchy," he complained.

She chuckled. "My sister embroidered it, back in Winterfell, when we were young. Family, duty, honor, it says."

"And who was Sansa kidnapping back then?" She began to massage his head, and despite himself he gave a long sigh, and she laughed.

"Oh, shut up, stupid. I'm almost done."

"Done with what?" As far as he knew, she'd done nothing except play with his hair. Beginning to panic, he snatched his hands up to feel his nose, mouth, neck. "You didn't steal my face, did you?"

She hit him on the chest. "Sit up, stupid, and look in the canal."

Ripping the now-wet cloth off of his eyes, he took a look in the canal and then immediately turned to face Arya. "Your horrid little bitch!"

She giggled, wiping her blue-stained hands on his once-clean shirt. "We couldn't have you recognized, now could we have, my exile king?"

Huffing, he stomped back to their small new home. "I'm angry with you," he told her when they got there, both sitting down on the cot they shared.

"Idiot," she muttered, before placing her hands on both sides of his head and turning him to kiss her, full and hard and hungry on the lips. When she pulled back after a few moments, he was breathless and wordless, and she smirked at him, something feral in her face. Her forehead, spattered with the still-drying blue dye from his previously platinum hair.

"You look utterly stupid right now" she told him matter-of-factly, eyes narrowed.

He grinned at her. "I guess that's what got us here in the first place, isn't it?"


End file.
